The Dragoons 3

by Patrick E. Andrews

  “I’ve managed to pick up quite a bit of information on our scalphunters,” Eruditus said. “Though I must confess the information came from conversations I had with border ruffians in a cantina in the town of Juntera.”

  “I take it that the general was not exactly candid in regards to the bounty payments he had been making,” Grant said. “But that’s understandable. If I were dealing with a foreign power, I would be close-mouthed about my operations as well.” He got himself a cup of coffee. “But tell me about our scalphunter, Mr. Fletcher.”

  “His name is Roberto Weismann,” Eruditus said. Then he added, “I know him.”

  “Strange name,” Grant commented.

  “Strange man,” Eruditus said. “His father was German and his mother Spanish. In fact, the elder Weismann and my own sire were acquaintances. Not friends. Acquaintances. Roberto gets his arrogant cruelty from his father, who literally enslaved Indians to run a gigantic rancho in Sierra Madre.”

  “How did he come to know your father?” Grant asked. “They were both in the cattle business,” Eruditus explained. “Mr. Weismann had decided to branch out and open a cattle ranch in Sonora. He and my father cooperated on a few undertakings. Of course when the Apaches stole Weismann cattle, he reacted violently.”

  “What about your own father?” Grant asked. “How did he deal with the Indians?”

  “He gave them so many head of beef animals a year in exchange for them not raiding him,” Eruditus explained. “You may consider that the payment of tribute, but it established a relationship of sorts with the Apaches, and they honored the agreement. It was a cruel attack of bandidos who wiped away our ranching enterprise, not any treachery on the part of the Indians.”

  “Very interesting,” Grant said. “But tell me about Weismann. How did he handle the situation of having his cattle stolen?”

  “He fought back savagely,” Eruditus said. “The Indians soon learned to fear and loathe him. They, too, battled ferociously. The result was that Weismann and his wife were killed in an Apache raid. I’m afraid they did not die pleasantly. Young Roberto Weismann, only ten years of age at the time, witnessed their final degradation and agony. In fact, he was made a captive and lived with the Indians for several years.”

  “So he knows the Apaches well, does he?”

  “He was adopted by an old medicine man who treated him quite well,” Eruditus said. “But there was no affection from the boy toward his benefactor. He never forgave the Apaches for killing his parents. When he was near manhood, he deserted the tribe and returned to civilization.”

  “You say he deserted the tribe?” Grant asked.

  “He had gone through the initialization and rites of becoming a warrior,” Eruditus said. “He had, to be realistic, become one of them.”

  Grant took a bite of salt pork. “What did he do when he was once again among whites?”

  “A man does what he is best at,” Eruditus said. “If he happens to have been trained as an Apache fighting man, he turns to fighting for hire. Anybody, anywhere, anytime—that was Roberto Weismann. When the Proyecto de Guerra law went into effect, he became a professional scalphunter.”

  “He must be an excellent fighting man,” Grant said. “When I was in Juntera, they told me he had been there a week or so previously,” Eruditus said. “Some of his men became ambitious. They attempted a coup d’etat, as it were, and Weismann killed them.”

  “Well!” Grant said. “I’ll certainly be glad when Roberto Weismann is out of Arizona Territory.”

  “So you should be, Captain,” Eruditus said. “He has absorbed both the best fighting qualities and worst cruelty of whites and Apaches. In addition, he has learned some lessons along those lines from the Mexicans.”

  Grant finished his coffee. “Then may God protect us all from Roberto Weismann.”

  Eruditus nodded in agreement. “Amen!”

  Ten

  The hacienda, its yellow adobe walls bright in the afternoon sun, was situated on a low hill that barely rose from the flat desert terrain that surrounded it.

  Two hundred yards away, closely observing the fortified edifice, a pair of travel-dusted horsemen had reined up. One of them, Eruditus Fletcher, astride Plutarch, pointed to the large structure. He spoke to his companion, Captain Grant Drummond, saying, “That, my young Captain, is the home and headquarters of General De La Nobleza.”

  Grant, wearing civilian clothing, but sporting a military belt, holster, saber, and canteen, scrutinized the impressive layout. “The Mexican army evidently pays handsome salaries to its general officers, or furnishes them excellent quarters.”

  “I can give you a negative answer on both points,” Eruditus said. “That extravagant abode is not the property of Mexico. The entire complex is owned outright by De La Nobleza.”

  “Do all Mexican generals own their own headquarters?” Grant inquired. “I find that hard to believe if they are not afforded lavish salaries.”

  Eruditus laughed. “While it is true they are not paid well by their government, they have the extraordinary privilege of making extra money when opportunities present themselves. That is not a legally established right, but this country’s government looks the other way when its public servants seek to garner extra income and property.”

  “I do not consider that a good system,” Grant said. “Perhaps it isn’t,” Eruditus replied. “But through the secret and subtle benefits of his office, De La Nobleza is able to provide himself with luxurious accommodations and, I am quite certain, is also filling his coffers to provide himself a comfortable old age.”

  “Not to mention his present living conditions,” Grant said. “He certainly isn’t depriving himself of anything in the life he now enjoys.”

  “That is evident in what we now see with our own eyes,” Eruditus said. “Once we are within yon walls, you will think yourself the guest of a European prince.”

  “General De La Nobleza must be the champion of champions when it comes to military entrepreneurs,” Grant said. “I suggest we continue on our way.”

  “As you wish, Captain Drummond,” Eruditus said.

  It took but a few minutes before they came to a second halt. This time they had reached the entry of the hacienda. A sharply attired Mexican soldier, standing beside a sentry box, snappily presented arms.

  Eruditus announced, “Aqui esta el Capitan Drummond del Ejercito de los Estados Unidos de America.”

  The guard went to a small opening in the gate and exchanged a few words. Within moments the heavy portals swung open. A well-uniformed man, wearing heavy epaulets and-a plumed shako, marched out. He rendered a salute, saying in excellent English, “I am Captain Perez, adjutant to his Excellency General Antonio Eduardo San Andres de la Nobleza, the military commander of Northern Sonora.”

  Since the officer spoke in their language, Eruditus switched to that tongue. “I am pleased to present Captain Grant Drummond, the American military commander of southwestern Arizona.”

  Grant saluted the other officer. “Forgive me for not being ^ in uniform,” he said. “But I thought it prudent to travel in civilian garb.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Perez said. “That was a wise decision on your part. I assure you that your sensitivity will be well appreciated by His Excellency. I will have you escorted to your quarters. Please feel free to avail yourself of the household staff until I see you again.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Grant said.

  A corporal and four privates suddenly appeared, marching up in correct military formation. Two of the soldiers helped Grant and Eruditus dismount while their companions removed the saddlebags from their horses. The two men with the horses led them away toward a stabling area. “Favor de seguirme, señores,” the corporal said.

  The two Americans, trailed by the soldiers holding their saddlebags, followed the man into a door. They went down a hall, finally turning into an area containing several rooms. Grant was taken to one well-furnished bedroom, while Eruditus went to the other.
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  Left alone, Grant pulled his clothing from the saddlebags. He found a closet with hangers, and he unrolled the uniform he’d brought, hanging it up. As he turned to tend to his other belongings, a middle-aged woman, obviously a maid, suddenly came into the room. Without a word, she took the uniform and went out of the room, passing by Eruditus who stood in the doorway.

  Eruditus nodded politely to the woman. “Muchas gracias, señora.”

  Grant looked at his friend. “I hope she plans on returning that to me.”

  “The maid will press your martial attire, Captain,” Eruditus said. “And make it more presentable.”

  “Excellent,” Grant said. “After being rolled up and crammed into the saddlebag, that uniform could use some attention.”

  “I’ve been informed there are refreshments awaiting us f on the veranda,” Eruditus said. “Shall we partake of them?”

  “Without a moment’s hesitation,” Grant said. “That was a long, dusty ride from the Vano Basin.”

  They went outside to a roofed veranda where a table had been set for them. Fruits, pastry, and cooled wine—the bottle set in a dampened clay container—awaited them. A servant, standing by, did not hesitate to serve them as they situated themselves in the wicker chairs.

  Grant took the offered wine and sniffed it. After putting a drop on his tongue, his eyes opened wide. “This is an excellent vintage!” His exposure to good wine during his courtship of the French ambassador’s daughter had taught him a great deal about the product of the grape.

  “The general lives a life of luxury within the confines of this near-palatial fort that would rival anything to be found in the world’s greatest cities,” Eruditus said. He winked at the officer. “Wait until you sup this evening.”

  “I feel fortunate that you bothered to return to our crude bivouac,” Grant said with a smile.

  “As you should!” Eruditus said chuckling. “My devotion to duty knows no bounds.” He treated himself to the wine. “I was told on my previous visit that this nectar of the gods is a French import.”

  “It most certainly is,” Grant said. He sipped the drink in a controlled, calculated manner in order to enjoy its bouquet. He took a pear from the bowl on the table and ate slowly and thoughtfully. “It is difficult to imagine that we are in the middle of a desert far from the best examples of civilization. How does the general maintain this establishment in such a barren place? It would seem impossible even with unlimited funds.”

  “Quite simply, because of the availability of a natural source of water,” Eruditus said. “A series of copious springs are located within the confines of the hacienda. In fact, this is one of several oases scattered throughout Sonora. Most have towns grown up around them. This particular one was chosen as his own private property by our host.”

  “Ah, yes,” Grant said. “As you mentioned before, it is the benefit of being a general in the Mexican army.”

  Captain Perez joined them. He clicked his heels and made a slight bow. “I trust you are comfortable, gentlemen.”

  “We certainly are,” Grant said.

  “I am pleased,” Perez said. “His excellency has authorized me to tender invitations to you both to join him at supper this evening at ten o’clock.”

  “Thank you,” Grant said.

  “If you require anything more, you will find Corporal Gomez at your service,” Perez said. “Good day, gentlemen.”

  Grant watched the officer leave. He turned to Eruditus. “So we dine at ten o’clock? Why so late?”

  “It is the common hour of the last meal in all parts of Latin America,” Eruditus explained, “The afternoons are hot and dreary, so all work comes to a halt and everyone takes a long siesta. When the air cools down, they return to their tasks for a few more hours. After that, the final meal of the day is enjoyed in the pleasantness of the late evening.” He took a sip of the wine. “Most civilized, is it not?”

  Grant shrugged, “I’m afraid it would take a bit of getting used to.”

  “I am already used to it, my young captain,” Eruditus said with a smile. “In fact, when I have had my fill of this wine and pastry, I intend to sleep the afternoon away.” He bit into a sugar roll. “By the way, if you feel the need of feminine companionship, simply ask the corporal. Your host will gladly see that an attractive wench is supplied for your enjoyment,” He chuckled and raised the wine goblet, “At my age, I treat myself to other pleasures.”

  “I don’t believe such conduct to be prudent at the moment,” Grant said. “Particularly because of the seriousness of our visit. But I will take advantage of the siesta. A good sleep after a long journey and a delightful snack will make this a very enjoyable day.”

  For the most part, the hacienda was silent with little activity. The only sound came from marching men when the guards on duty were changed. After that, the stillness and quiet settled down once again over the scene. After spending an hour enjoying the fruit and pastry, Grant and Eruditus decided to retire to their respective rooms for naps.

  “One more thing, Captain,” Eruditus said stopping at his door. “Leave your boots out in the hallway. You’ll find them shined after you wake up.”

  Grant removed his boots and left them by the door. Then he went inside to divest himself of jacket and vest. He stretched out on the bed pleased to find it boasted a firmly stuffed feather mattress. He turned his mind to the reasons of the visit to the Mexican general until he drifted off to sleep.

  Grant wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but when he awoke, he sat up startled. The feel of the bed, the lack of the odor of campfire smoke, and the closeness of the room brought him to abrupt wakefulness until he remembered where he was. He glanced around the room, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. An inadvertent glance toward the closet showed his uniform hanging there. He went to it to find the garment pressed and brushed, ready to be put on. A rapping at the door interrupted his inspection of the clothing.

  Eruditus’s voice sounded on the other side. “Captain Drummond?”

  “Yes, Mr. Fletcher,” Grant said. “Please come in.”

  Eruditus entered the room carrying a pair of well-shined boots. “I believe these are yours.”

  “Indeed they are,” Grant said. “They’ve not looked this good in years.”

  “I’ve ordered us hot baths,” he said. “We’ll have enough time for a leisurely soak then a change of clothing and a beer or two oil the veranda before supper with the general.” Two soldiers carrying a tub of hot water walked up to the door. Without a word, they entered and set the container down. They left soap and towels before making a silent withdrawal.

  “My own bath awaits me,” Eruditus said. “Shall we meet outside in about a half hour?”

  “Fine,” Grant said. “See you then.”

  He looked longingly at the hot water as he began to undress. Within moments he had stepped into the tub and squatted down to submerge himself in the wet comfort. He grabbed the bar of soap, noting its sweet smell as he began to lather up. Being able to give himself a full wash was a welcome change after weeks of bathing out of a basin at the camp. He stayed in the water until it became tepid, then he stepped out and rubbed himself dry with the oversize, thick flannel towel.

  Afterward, Grant dressed carefully in the full-dress uniform he’d brought with him. An official meeting with a general officer of a foreign power called for nothing less in the way of attire. The outfit consisted of a double-breasted frock coat of blue, trimmed in gold, with a metallic, fringe-less epaulet on each side of the high standing collar. A red sash was worn under the belt and its gold buckle. His trousers were light blue with a gold stripe down each side. Because of the formality of the supper he was to attend, Grant wore the pants outside, rather than inside, his now highly shined boots.

  After a careful inspection of himself in the mirror, Grant strolled out to the veranda. When he saw Eruditus sitting at the table sipping a beer, he stopped short.

  “My God!” Grant exclaime
d. “You’re an elegant sight, Mr. Fletcher.”

  Smiling, Eruditus stood up to display the formal tuxedo, complete with long tail, that he wore. “This is left over from my days back East. Like your uniform, it was crammed in my saddlebags awaiting the proper attention necessary to make it presentable.”

  “Well, sir, you are a most impressive sight,” Grant said. He helped himself to one of the bottles of beer sitting in water in a large pot. He wrested the cork out and took a swallow of the cool liquid.

  “And you’ve wrapped yourself in martial glory,” Eruditus said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in any but a field uniform, Captain. That always consisted of a military item or two along with practical civilian clothing such as buckskins to meet the rigors of the frontier.”

  “It’s strange when two men meet and live in a single type of environment,” Grant mused. “When they go to another situation, the change in their appearance can be most surprising for each of them. You are proper enough to step into a New York opera house, sir.”

  “Thank you very much for the complimentary words,” Eruditus said.

  Grant glanced around at the hacienda. “At this moment I am trying to figure out why I gave up a lifestyle similar to this to leave Washington City and become a field soldier.”

  “Any regrets now, Captain?” Eruditus asked.

  He was thoughtful for a couple of moments. “I suppose not,” the officer said. “I’m following the life I’ve chosen for myself.”

  “I thought as much,” Eruditus said. “To speak the plain truth I do not miss my own soft existence back East. I am, sir, like you, in my element.”

  They had time for another beer before a soldier showed up to escort them to the dining room. They followed the man through the house and down a series of halls to the other side before arriving at a large room containing a gigantic dining table set with china service and elaborate silverware.